


Whatever It Takes

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Dean will do anything for Cas, M/M, Tracking Spell, canonverse, human!Cas, injured!Cas, no happy ending, rated A for Angst, the search for Cas's grace, typical winchester ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: Cas gets hit by a car and ends up in a coma. Dean will do anything to make sure he can tell his boyfriend he loves him at least once. Even if it costs him everything.





	Whatever It Takes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for week 7 of Destiel bingo. My prompt was B3: Dean won’t say I love you. I swear when I sat down to write this, I wasn’t planning any angst. I was gonna do a cute, fluffy thing but my brain had vastly different plans. So, without further ado, welcome to this today’s episode of “I Didn’t Know I Was a Sadist”.... Just kidding, I knew. Your tears fuel me. Enjoy the angst!

Thank you to [MaggieMaybe160](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160) for the beta. Thank you for helping me bring the pain hahahaha!

 

To my lovely, wonderful readers, I am SO SO (not) SORRY to put you through all this pain!

 

Cas’s face was concave on one side, there were slashes and tears in his once white button down, and his blood soaked into the plaid of Dean’s shirt as the hunter carried the limp body of his boyfriend through the automatic doors of the emergency room. Bone protruded from Cas’s fractured arm, and his hip felt wrong against Dean’s arm.

 

“I need some help!” Dean’s voice was broken, and he barely held back panicked tears as several nurses ran over to him. “Please, someone help him!”

 

He was suddenly surrounded in a whirlwind of movement, and he hardly kept track of everything that was going on around him. Someone rolled a gurney over, a nurse urging him to lay Cas down on it. A woman’s voice called out for a doctor, and Cas was being rushed away, surrounded by people in scrubs. It was Dean’s worst nightmare. There was a hand on his arm, and a voice that he couldn’t quite focus on as he wiped tears from his cheeks.

 

“Sir? Sir!”

 

The hand shook him and he jerked back to the reality in front of him. A round face, framed with brown hair. A nurse. She was talking to him.

 

“Sir? I need you to tell me what happened.”

 

“We were walking. He pushed me out of the way of the car.” Dean was shaking now, the adrenaline that had gotten him there was trickling away. His mind was hazing over and he couldn’t control the tears sliding down his cheeks. “Is he gonna be okay? He’s gonna be okay, right? He has to be okay.”

 

“He’s in good hands. You need to sit down. Come on.”

 

Dean didn’t resist as the small woman took him by the hand and led him to the waiting room. She shoved him gently toward a chair He sat in it, trying to control the ever darkening spiral of his thoughts. Dean was left alone to this thoughts and the paperwork. He sat alone and unmoving buthe wasn’t sure how long. The passage of time didn’t have much meaning to him.

 

He was practically catatonic. The accident played through his mind on a loop. One minute they were  walking, hand-in-hand, across the suburban street. Dean hadn’t even seen the late model sedan coming. Cas had shoved him, hard enough that he stumbled forward and then hit the ground. He’d turned back just in time to watch the car plow into his boyfriend, sending him careening through the air. The bastard hadn’t even stopped.

 

Now, God knew what was happening. Dean couldn’t believe that after everything they’d been through, it was a car that threatened to end Castiel’s life. Not the apocalypse, or a monster, or a demon. Just a hit and run. Dean couldn’t cry anymore, there were no tears left in him. He’d never felt a pain like this, not even when he’d begged for an angel to save Sammy. He just sat there, staring into space as the hours ticked by. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been there when his cell phone rang in his pocket. He checked the screen. Sam. He hadn’t even thought to call him.

 

“Sam?” Dean’s throat was dry, his voice scratched as he spoke. “I shoulda called you.”

 

“ _Are you okay?_ ” Sam was as astute as ever. “ _What’s going on?_ ”

 

“I’m at Smith County Memorial.”

 

“ _Dean, what happened? Are you okay?”_

 

“It’s Cas.” Dean’s voice cracked and his throat tightened until he couldn’t speak again.

 

“ _I’m on my way.”_

* * *

 

“Mr. Winchester?” The voice came from an unfamiliar woman in scrubs standing in front of Sam and Dean.

 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Dean’s voice was hoarse, but he didn’t bother trying to make it better. “Who’re you?”

 

“I’m Doctor Sikorski. I’m the surgeon that operated on your boyfriend.” She pulled a chair up and sat with them.

 

“Is he okay? What’s going on?” Dean leaned forward, praying for good news.

 

“He’s stable, for now.” The doctor rested a hand on Dean’s fist and smiled sadly when he and his brother sighed with relief. “His injuries were quite extensive. Most of the bones on the left side of his face were broken, as well as the compound fracture of the arm and severe pelvic fracturing. He suffered some internal injuries, as well.”

 

“But, he’s gonna be fine now, right?” Dean didn’t bother trying to hide the hope in his voice, or the guilt. “He has to be okay.”

 

“What concerns me the most is the head injury. There is some swelling in his brain, but we don’t know the full extent of the damage. We’ve put him in a medically induced coma, to try to keep him stable and let his body heal without exacerbating any of his injuries.”

 

“I don’t… what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

 

“We don’t know. He might wake up in a week, it might be longer. I know this is difficult, but you need to be prepared for the possibility that he may not wake up at all.”

 

Dean’s heart slammed against his chest. Not wake up at all? Cas? That couldn’t be right. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

“What? No,” Dean breathed, shaking his head. “He has to wake up. He’s gonna wake up.” He hadn’t thought there were any tears left in him, but they streamed down his face again. He had to do something. There had to be a favor he could call in, someone who could bring Cas back to him.

* * *

He stalked around the bunker after Sam made him go home. Despite knowing that he could do nothing for Cas at the hospital, Dean felt like he should be with him. If he couldn’t be there, he’d damn sure try everything he could here. He searched the contacts in his phone for the number, and hit send.

 

“ _Dean, to what do I owe the displeasure?_ ” Despite the statement, Crowley sounded like he was actually happy to hear from him.

 

“I’m calling in that favor.” Dean paced, running tired fingers through his disorderly hair.

 

“ _What do you need?_ ”

 

“Cas is dying.”

 

“ _Dean… I don’t know what to say.”_

 

“Don’t say anything! Save him!”

 

“ _I can’t do that.”_

 

“Yes you can, God dammit! I don’t care what it costs, Crowley! Take whatever you have to, just save him!” His blood rushed in his ears, and Dean could hear the rampant thumping of his heart. He’d give up his soul forever if he had to, anything for Cas.

 

“ _I wish I could help you, but you’re asking for something I cannot provide. I’m sorry, Dean.”_

 

“How can the king of Hell be so fucking useless?” Dean shouted before he hit the button to end the call. It didn’t matter, he’d find another way. There was always a deal to be made, another entity to summon.

* * *

Dean startled awake in the chair he had pulled up next to Cas’s bed. Other than his own movement, the only sounds in the room were the whirring and chirping of the various machines that monitored Cas’s condition. Dean checked his watch, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He must have been tired, he’d slept for about four hours. It was more sleep than he’d been getting lately. A month had passed, and still he spent most of his nights in this chair, waiting for Cas to open his eyes. It was worse than Hell, and Dean would know.

 

At least Cas looked like himself again. His face had been so mutilated that Dean wasn’t sure it would ever be the same, and it wasn’t quite. There were some barely noticeable changes; a crook on his nose that hadn’t been there before, a slightly steeper slope to one of his brows, but nothing so different that it made him unrecognizable. It wouldn’t have mattered to Dean either way. He just wanted Cas to wake up. He just wanted Cas.

 

Dean had tried every supernatural thing he could think of to pull Cas out of his oblivion. He’d looked for spells, tried to make deals with demons, hell, he’d even tried to make a deal with Billie. Nothing. Crowley had come through in a small way, finding a possible lead on Cas’s grace, but they’d had no luck finding it.

 

Dean was left with nothing to do but sit as his boyfriend’s bedside, and wonder why he’d never said the words. So many opportunities, and he’d thrown them all away. Now, he might never have the chance to tell Cas he loved him. Cas knew, at least Dean was pretty sure he did, but it didn’t change the guilt he felt for every time he’d answered ‘I love you’ with ‘I know’ or ‘ditto.’ Why was he such a coward?

He took Cas’s lifeless hand and squeezed it between his own, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

 

“Cas,” Dean prayed, not for the first time, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but you gotta wake up.” He sucked in a deep breath, not bothering to hold back the tears or hide the crack in his voice. “I, uh… I can’t do this without you. I need you, baby. Please, Cas. Please, wake up.”

 

He opened his eyes, hoping as he did every night that he’d be met by ocean blue. Just like every other night, Dean was met only by Cas’s still face and the steady beep of the heart monitor. What the hell was he going to do?

* * *

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to startle the older Winchester from his slumber. He rubbed his weary eyes and looked up at his brother.

 

“‘M up. What’s goin’ on?”

 

“Crowley’s at the bunker. He thinks he has a way to nail down the location, or at least to narrow the search radius.” Dean shot out of the chair, fully awake. They might actually have a chance at finding Cas’s grace. It was the best news he’d gotten in weeks.

 

“You’ll stay with him?” They both knew it wasn’t a question. It was an order that was made every time Dean was dragged away from the bedside of his Cas. He made it to the bunker in record time, calling Crowley’s name as he burst through the door.

 

“Hello, dearie,” a woman’s voice greeted him instead. Rowena was there, standing next to her son. His skin prickled, but he ignored it. Dean knew getting her involved was probably a bad idea, but he didn’t care. Whatever it took for Cas to have the chance to hear him say those three words. He approached the table where Rowena had set out wolfsbane, angelica root, and a few other ingredients next to a metal bowl that sat in the center of four runes. He should probably recognize them, but the hours spent poring over lore and magic to save Cas left him weary and tired.

 

“How’s this gonna work?” Dean asked the witch, wanting to get right to business.

 

“This spell, worked properly, should lead you to your angel’s grace.” She turned a book around so he could read it. The spellbook looked ancient, and as he skimmed the page he could see it was written in latin. “Fergus helped me find the ingredients.”

 

“Why didn’t you do it with Sam instead of sending him to get me?” It was frustrating. If they already had everything they needed, why did they wait? They could be on their way already.

 

“It has to be you,” Crowley said. “You and Feathers share a profound bond, and that is what will lead you to his Grace.”

 

“Okay, well let’s get on with it, then.”

 

“It’s not without risk, Dean.” Rowena took a step toward him. “I didn’t tell Samuel, but the spell draws power from your soul.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

“It consumes your soul, bit by bit, while you’re using it. If you don’t find the grace soon, your soul will be completely devoured. It will cease to exist.”

 

Dean faltered, but only for a moment. It didn’t matter. If he had to disappear for Cas to live, so be it.

 

“What are we waiting for?” The witch and her son exchanged a nervous glance. Dean ignored it as he reached for the wolfsbane, only to be stopped by Crowley’s hand on his arm.

 

“There’s still a chance he could wake up on his own,” the demon said, worry creasing his brow.

 

“I can’t take any chance he wouldn’t.”

 

Crowley sighed in resignation, shrugging at his mother as he turned away.

 

Rowena carefully walked him through the steps of the spell before they began, explaining that Dean had to be the one to work the magic for it to be successful. She made him repeat everything back to her, and when she confirmed he knew all the steps, she hesitantly stepped away from the table. Her brow furrowed and her eyes darted between Dean and the altar.

 

“If you’re certain…” Her voice trailed off and she stepped aside but her eyes gave away her immense concern for the older Winchester.

Dean double checked everything on the table and took a deep breath. He began the ritual, mixing the ingredients in the required order as he spoke.

 

“Deprecatio ad universi, virtutes esse.

Sicut et ego tenetur Castiel, ita sun,

in omnes partes, tenetur ad me.

Ego imperium universi, vitutes esse.”

 

He sliced the palm of his hand with the sharp, silver knife, letting the blood drip over the ingredients in the bowl.

 

“Per corpus meum, et nostra vinculo

deducet me ad perdidit pars.”

 

As the oil drizzled from the tipped decanter into the bowl, there was a bright flash of yellow light. Dean fell to his knees as searing pain ripped through him, his whole being on fire. He didn’t know how long the anguish lasted, but the burn eventually dulled until it was a simmering pain in his skull. When he could feel anything beyond the pain, Dean became aware of an intense pulling sensation in his sternum.

 

“Dean?” Rowena’s hands were on his arms and he looked up into her eyes. “Are you alright? Did it work?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.” He stood slowly, pivoting to try and find which way the pull felt the strongest. “I need Sam. We have to move fast.”

* * *

Dean didn’t know where they were headed, just that he had to follow the force that was drawing him to Cas’s grace like a magnet. He could feel Sam’s silent, worried stare on him. Any other time, Dean would have bitched about it, but he was pushing through the dull roar of pain behind his eyes. With every passing moment, Dean’s soul was burning painfully away. They had to get this done, and soon. They’d been heading west for almost twelve hours when Sam finally spoke.

 

“I can drive for a while, Dean,” he said softly, “you should rest.”

 

Dean shook his head and pressed the gas pedal further into the floor. “I’m not tired.” He was surprised to realise it was true. Despite his month of restless nights and little slumber, he no longer had any desire to sleep. His heart pounded in his chest when he remembered that Sam hadn’t slept when he lost his soul. How fast did this spell work?

 

“Well, can we at least stop and get some food? I’m starving.” He rolled down his window, resting his elbow on the frame as he watched Dean drive.

 

Dean didn’t answer, he silently moved to the right lane so he could easily pull off at the next exit. He didn’t mention it, but he wasn’t hungry either. Sam was worried enough without knowing what the spell was doing to him. He took the next off ramp and sped through the little town, not bothering to stop at the red light. He didn’t even flinch when a pickup truck almost slammed into back end of the Impala.

 

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam shouted. “You trying to get someone killed?” The muscles in his forearm were bulging slightly as his grip tightened on the roof of the car. Dean looked over at him, knowing he should feel some level of concern for whatever unlucky bastard was in that truck.

 

“I don’t care, Sam! Just get the food, and let’s get back on the goddamn road!” He slammed the brakes, bring the car to a screeching halt in front of a convenience store.

 

“Dude, I know this is hard for you, but you need to calm down. We’ll get Cas’s grace, and he’ll wake up. Everything will work out.” Sam looked at him for a moment longer before getting out of the car and walking into the store.

 

Shit, Dean was in trouble. The spell was eating away at his soul much faster than he’d anticipated. He didn’t have much time before… He didn’t want to think about it. His soul wasn’t so far gone that he had no fear.

 

Sam clambered back into the passenger side, slamming the door. A day ago, it would’ve bothered Dean, but he didn’t care about anything but getting back on the road. The tires spun as he pulled out of the parking lot, heading back toward the highway as Sam handed him a sandwich. He tossed it into the backseat and ignored the look Sam shot him as he accelerated well past the speed limit.

 

They were deep into the Nevada desert when Dean was suddenly overwhelmed by the spell’s magnetism, and he slammed the brakes, gasping for air. Dean grasped at his chest for a moment, panting.

 

“You okay?” Sam was staring at him, still bracing a himself with a hand on the dash in front of him.

 

“We’re close. I can feel it.” Dean looked around, but could only see the black night that had fallen over the desert hours ago.

 

“There’s nothing here, Dean.”

 

“I can see that, bitch,” Dean growled at his brother, rolling his eyes. The sensation had become more manageable now, so he put his foot on the gas and started driving again.

 

“Jerk.” Dean clenched his jaw. He didn’t have time for Sam’s games. He needed to find the goddamned grace and get it back to Cas.

A brightly lit building appeared ahead of them as Dean continued down the road, seemingly out of nowhere. It looked like a warehouse, but it was out of place. It felt wrong, making his skin crawl. There was nothing else around, just the sand stretching on into the horizon. His unease increased as he slowed the impala to a stop in front of the place. This was not good. Very, very not good. He looked over at Sam as he cut the engine.

 

“You ready?”

 

“Not really,” Sam answered, “we don’t even know what we’re up against here, Dean.” He wasn’t wrong, but all they could do now was prepare for as much as possible. Dean sure as hell wasn’t giving up now.

 

“Well, I’m going in there whether you come or not.” He didn’t wait for Sam to answer, he just opened the door and stepped out of the Impala. By the time Dean had propped the false bottom of the trunk up with a shotgun, his brother was beside him, peering down at the supernatural arsenal contained within. They silently grabbed their various weapons of choice, tucking them into waistbands and boots. Each had a gun in hand when they approached the door of the warehouse.

 

Dean put a hand on the knob, and nodded at Sam before swinging the door open. The inside of the building was nothing short of opulent. Pillars carved with hieroglyph images lined a long carpet of deep red, creating the illusion of a corridor. Dean felt a sharp pain tear through him, like his insides were trying to escape his body by force. He cried out as his knees hit the floor and he was dragged down the aisle.

 

“Dean!” Sam’s footfalls behind him were fast and loud, all thoughts of stealth forgotten.

 

He was drawn into a large open room with what looked like a throne in the center. The perch was huge, the black a stark contrast for the Egyptian symbols drawn in gleaming gold. Upon it sat a man with skin the color of sand and shockingly red hair that fell over his shoulders. His chest was bare between the bejeweled golden collar that hung in a half circle from his neck and the white linen hilt that hung from his hips. His charcoal lined eyes held fire as he stared down at Dean, who was brought to floor by some invisible force.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Dean asked through gritted teeth, the pain of being so close to Castiel’s grace thrumming through his body, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. He barely noticed Sam struggling against the power that forced them to their knees in front of the throne.

 

“I have many names.” The creature’s voice was shrouded in a darkness that seemed to draw light in from everywhere around him. “You may call me Set. Why have you disturbed me, Dean Winchester?”

 

“I was brought here by a spell. I think you have something that belongs to... a friend... of mine.”

 

The haunting sound of the god’s laughter filled the room with chaotic energy as he rose from his chair to tower over the Winchesters. Set’s menacing eyes bored into Dean, all the way to his ever shrinking soul. He shuddered under the gaze, feeling the probing investigation of his mind.

 

“You are not the first to come for the angel’s grace.”

 

“I’ll be the last,” Dean said with with false confidence. “I need it.”

 

“Yes, you do. Without it your angel will never wake up.” Set crouched so they were face to face, their eyes locked on each other.. “You must truly love him, sacrificing your soul in this way.”

 

“Dean, what’s he talking about?” Sam’s concern, confusion, and fear were apparent, but Dean felt none of his usual guilt for lying to his brother.

 

“My soul powers the spell. The longer this takes the more it consumes.”

 

“Are you insane?” There was the anger. Dean smirked.

 

“We don’t have time for this, Sam.” Dean said in a chillingly calm voice. Sam opened his mouth to say something else, but apparently thought better of it.

 

“I loved a man like that once.” Set’s voice held some emotion, muddled beyond recognition by the all-consuming darkness of his tone. “He was turned against me by my brother, used as a pawn to keep me from the throne. But no more. Thanks to you, Osiris is no more.”

 

“Glad to be of assistance. Care to return the favor?” Dean shifted, fear no longer creeping through him. Set was going to give him what he wanted, he was gonna make damn sure of it.

 

“I’ve already refrained from taking your life. That is favor enough.” Set stood and turned back toward his throne, and suddenly Dean felt lighter. The pressure holding him to the floor was gone and he stood. The god turned and looked over his shoulder at him. “I could be persuaded to make a trade.”

 

“What do you want?” Dean stepped forward and he could feel the heat radiating from the deity.

 

“Now that Osiris is gone, I wish to summon my once lover. Perhaps I can remind him of what we had before his father interfered.” He lowered himself gracefully onto the throne as he spoke.

 

“The hell’s that gotta do with me?” Dean asked. He was startled when Sam touched his arm, he’d forgotten his brother was there.

 

“Can we talk for a second?”

 

“I don’t have time for this.” He shook Sam off, his eyes never leaving Set. “Just tell me what you want.”

 

“I require the Eye of Horus. I cannot summon him without it. Get me that, and I will return your angel’s Grace to you.”

 

“Do you know where it is?” Dean shook off Sam’s hand again without looking at him.

 

“If I knew where it was, I wouldn’t need you.” Set sat back on the throne, crossing his legs and casually examining his fingernails.

 

“Dean, we need to talk. Now!” Sam’s voice was commanding, and Dean dragged his eyes away from the god to finally look at his brother, opening his mouth to tell him to shut the hell up. “I know where the Eye is.” Dean’s eyes widened and he turned back to Set.

 

Dean followed Sam until they were a few steps away from the god, hopefully out of earshot. “Where is it?”

 

“Dean, this is a bad idea.”

 

“Where is it, Sam?” Dean knew it was a bad idea, but it was the best chance he had of getting Cas back, and he didn’t care.

 

“Are you listening to me? Set is the god of chaos, darkness, and violence. You think a deal with him is a good plan?”

 

“Sam, I swear to God!” Dean grabbed a fistful if his brother’s shirt, his body shaking with anger. “If you don’t tell where the Eye is, I will kill you.”

 

Sam balked, speechless for a moment. Dean didn’t care about the pain he saw in his brother’s eyes. He was angry. Sam was standing between him and his only way to save his angel. He’d meant every word he’d said. He would kill Sam without guilt or regret. He knew it was wrong to think that, but he couldn’t feel any differently, not now. Not with his soul slipping away.

 

“It's at the bunker.” Sam looked deflated as he answered. Dean let him go, stalking back toward the middle of the room.

 

“We have it. I can take you to it right now.” Dean stood tall, raging and fearless in the face of the god, his voice commanding. “I just need to make a call.” He quickly dialed Crowley and told him to kill the bunker’s warding until they got back.”

 

“Very well, Dean Winchester.” Set stood and approached him, gracefully gesturing for Sam to join them. When Sam stood next to them, the deity placed a hand on each of their shoulders. He smirked and suddenly, they stood in the bunker’s library.

 

Dean had expected it to be a jarring experience, as it was when Cas teleported them but he’d felt nothing. He hadn’t even seen the warehouse disappear around them. One second they’d been standing there, the next they were in the bunker. By the looks of him, Sam had not had the same experience. He looked a little green, and like he might tip over at any moment. Was it the soul? He didn’t care.

 

“Well, take me to the Eye.” Set was looking at Sam, waiting with a fiery gleam in his eye. When Sam had his feet firmly under him again, they followed him to one of the store rooms. Dean helped him search the shelves as Set watched over them. “I must urge you to move quickly. There isn’t much of Dean’s soul left to burn.”

 

Sam tensed visibly before he silently shuffled through one box of artifacts and then another, repeating the process until he held up a large golden disc. “I’ve got it!”

 

Dean turned toward him as Set approached, holding a hand out expectantly. Sam hesitated, glancing over at his brother. He sighed and handed it over under Dean’s icy stare. Set closed his fingers around it before looking over at Dean with a cold smile.

 

“A deal is a deal.” He flicked his wrist, and a vial full of fluctuating blue light appeared from thin air. He plucked it out of the sky between two fingers and held it out to Dean, who took it immediately. “Until we meet again, Dean Winchester.” Then he was gone.

 

Dean closed his fist around the vial, expecting the spell to resolve itself now that he’d found what he was tracking. It didn’t. He could still feel what was left of his soul smouldering, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was beyond caring about his soul.

 

“Crowley!” Dean raced through the bunker, looking for the demon. He found him in the war room. “Zap me to the hospital, Crowley! I gotta get there now!”

 

Crowley touched his arm and they were in Cas’s hospital room. Dean rushed to Cas’s bedside, opened the vial and tipped it against his boyfriend’s lower lip. When all of the grace has rushed into Cas, Dean covered his eyes against the holy white light that shone in the room.

 

Castiel’s eyes were open when Dean moved his arm. He’d done it.

 

“Dean.” Cas sat up in the hospital bed, looking around in confusion. “Where am I?”

 

“You’re in the hospital.” Dean sat in a chair against the wall, watching the waking angel from a distance. He should be ecstatic, running over to take his lover in his arms, but he felt nothing. He spoke in a calm monotone. “You’ve been in a coma for about a month. I found your grace to wake you up.”

 

“Something isn’t right,” Cas mumbled, staring intently at Dean. “Why are you… darker?”

 

“I had to use a spell to track your grace.” Dean heard himself chuckle mirthlessly. “I wanted to make sure you were around to hear me say that I love you.”

 

“I know you do. I love you, too, Dean.” He cocked his head to one side. “I’m scared. I can’t see your soul.” He paled as the realization hit him, and his voice dripped anger when he spoke again. “Dean, tell me what you did.”

 

“I promised that I would say it when you woke up.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “But I don’t feel it anymore. I can’t feel it.”

 

Castiel was out of the hospital bed and crouching in front of Dean, taking hold of his hands. “We’ll get it back, like we did for Sam.” His voice was full of hope. It should have broken Dean’s heart.

 

“The spell used it all up, Cas.”  Dean shook his head. “It’s gone. Forever.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the spell myself, with some handy dandy books I have about the practice of Wicca and Witchcraft. If you're interested, here are the magical properties of the runes and ingredients used in the spell:
> 
> Runes: Pertho (discovery of hidden things), Ehwaz (telepathic links), Kenaz (quest), Ansuz (wisdom)
> 
> Ingredients: Wolfsbane (protection, binding), Lion's Tooth aka Dandelion (Psychic links, contacting spirits), Angelica Root (protection, vision).
> 
> Oil of Copal is something they used in a different tracking spell in the show, and adder fang is the actual fang of an adder (basically a snake with really good snake senses, very good at catching its prey) to supplement the tracking part of this spell.
> 
> None of this is overly important, but I spent a couple of hours researching it when I wrote the spell, so I wanted to share :D


End file.
